Chapter 6: What the Sister Knew
I met Patricia at a diner two towns over.
She'd suggested it — somewhere Judy wouldn't go, she said, which told me everything about the kind of conversation this was going to be.
She was already in a booth when I arrived.
Older than Judy by a few years, with the same sharp eyes but none of the performance.
She had a cup of coffee in front of her and she wrapped both hands around it like she needed something to hold.
"Thank you for coming," she said.
"You said there are things I don't know." I sat down.
"Tell me."
She nodded slowly.
"Judy's house isn't just fine.
It's been on the market for two months.
Quietly — one of those private listings, no sign in the yard.
She's selling it."
I stared at her.
"She's selling her house."
"Yes.
And before you ask — no, she hasn't told Mark.
As far as I know, he still believes she's going back after the renovation."
"There is no renovation."
"No," Patricia said.
"There isn't."
I sat back.
The diner noise moved around us — plates, voices, a television in the corner — and none of it touched the quiet at our table.
"She's planning to move in permanently," I said.
"She was never going to leave."
"That's what I believe, yes." Patricia looked down at her coffee.
"Judy has wanted to live with Mark since his father passed.
Three years ago.
She doesn't like being alone.
She never has.
But Mark built a life with you, and she couldn't find a way in." She paused.
"Until Riley."
"Until Riley," I repeated.
"A new baby is the perfect reason.
You need help.
You're tired.
She's the experienced grandmother.
It's natural for her to be there." Patricia looked up.
"Except Judy doesn't want to help you, Kate.
She wants to replace you.
In the house.
In Mark's attention.
In Riley's life."
The word *replace* sat on the table between us like something physical.
"She said it herself," I said quietly.
"She told me to give Riley to her."
Patricia didn't look surprised.
"She said something similar to me once.
When Mark first started dating you.
She said she'd raise his children herself before she let the wrong woman do it."
My throat tightened.
"Why are you telling me this?" I asked.
"She's your sister."
Patricia was quiet for a moment.
"I have a daughter," she said finally.
"She married a good man.
And his mother made the first four years of their marriage a slow kind of misery.
Subtle things.
Constant things.
The kind of damage that doesn't leave marks you can point to." She looked at me steadily.
"I watched my daughter almost lose herself.
I'm not going to watch the same thing happen to you and say nothing."
I looked at this woman I'd never met before today.
She had driven here.
She had called a stranger.
She was risking her relationship with her own sister.
"Does Judy know you're here?" I asked.
"No.
And I'd prefer to keep it that way as long as possible." She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
Slid it across the table.
"This is the listing.
The agent's name is on it.
You can verify everything I've told you."
I unfolded it.
The address was Judy's.
The listing price was there in plain numbers.
Two months on market.
"She's been planning this since before Riley was born," I said.
"Probably since she found out you were pregnant," Patricia said.
"That's my guess."
I folded the paper carefully and put it in my bag.
"Mark doesn't know any of this."
"Mark," Patricia said carefully, "knows more than he admits and less than he should.
He's not a bad man, Kate.
But he has never been able to see his mother clearly.
She raised him not to."
I thought about the phone call in the car outside Judy's house.
*I didn't ask too many questions.
She's my mother.*
"I need him to see it," I said.
"I can't fix this if he won't see it."
"Then show him," Patricia said.
"Don't tell him.
Show him." She tapped the bag where I'd put the listing.
"Start there."
I drove back to my mom's with the listing on the passenger seat.
That night, after Riley was asleep, I called Mark.
"I need you to come here tomorrow," I said.
"Not to argue.
I have something to show you."
A pause.
"What is it?"
May you like
"Come tomorrow," I said.
"And come alone."
